


1978 Balance

by Spot_On60



Series: Black Ice [3]
Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a certain amount of give and take involved in any relationship, just ask Willie and Barnabas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1978 Balance

 

**1978 Balance**

 

There was nothing to indicate their night together would end as it had. The vampire had left Willie sleeping but was troubled by what he had learned. Willie had no lack of misfortune in his life, did he? It hadn't begun when he was forced to live in the Old House. It had started early in his life, had shaped his actions as a young teenager. It had been a catalyst for his living on the road and sea with McGuire when he could only barely be considered a man. Though Barnabas no longer held as much contempt for the Irishman as he had previously. Another time Willie would tell him of being icebound on a freighter, but for now learning of his care for Willie had not only demonstrated a different relationship the two had once shared, but also  made clear the loss Willie had suffered at the end of their friendship. Knowing this now it was clear that it was up to him to try to make a better life for the younger man. At the age of thirty-five he had earned it. Even with a determination to make the future better, the vampire felt badly for upsetting him so.

Barnabas had been on his side, head in hand propped up on his elbow watching as Willie slowly clasped and stroked himself. He’d taken Willie’s hand and had him encircle himself, then covering the hand with his own he led, sometimes squeezing, sometimes gliding. He moved his hand alone to Willie’s stomach, smoothing across it, pausing on the line of hair that led to his groin. His fingers reached to the far side and were whispering along the inside hollow created by Willie’s hip. As he watched Willie working himself he caught a scent. With the tip of his index finger he spread the secretion over the crown. Willie, eyes closed, let slip a barely audible tone from his lips.

He took Willie’s hand and quietly moved it to the side, resting it on a hipbone. Leading with two fingers he stroked down the shaft with his palm open. There was no hurry. He reached the hilt and continued further, deep into Willie. He leaned over, lightly running his lips along Willie’s neck. His fangs were descending, preparing to open the waiting vein.

He absorbed the balls with his hand and raised them, pulling them up and forward, slowly, with great care. The two leading fingers then continued on between his legs, searching his perineum along the muscle within. The anus tightened and drew in. The sweet spot would be just in front of this opening.

Willie was becoming nervous. Never before had Barnabas gone where he wasn’t comfortable. His arousal was fading. He was fast becoming tight and wary. As Barnabas pressed and caressed, his fingers got too close.

Willie panicked.

_Oh God, what's he going to do to me?_

He couldn’t. Not even with this masterful lover. Fear was rising in him as he heard that long ago voice, “Stay, mediterraneo.”

He shoved the hand away from him and bolted from the bed.

He was flat against the wall in a heartbeat with Barnabas close behind, approaching, a look of questioning confusion on his face.

“N-no Barnabas.”

_Did he just stutter? He hasn’t stuttered in years._

“Please … stay away from me.”

“Willie.”

“You can’t do that to me, Barnabas. It hurts. I don’t want ya doin’ that to me.” It all came rushing back to him. He had kept it away for so long, but it had returned. His spine filled with ice.

“What is it Willie?” He reached out, “Wha…”

Willie batted at his hand. “You stay away from me Barnabas. It hurts.” He was trying to be firm but his voice was rising and he was shaking.

“Willie.”

Up came the hands, clasping each other, held tightly to his chest. Barnabas was hit with the scent of fear. He extended a hand again and Willie took a serious swing, eyes wild. Barnabas caught him by the wrist then grasped the other. He clamped them together in one large hand, wrapping his free arm behind Willie’s shoulders, crushing Willie to him, immobilized him, held him.

_No … no … no …_

“No, no, no ... Please Barnabas. It hurts. Please, don’t do this to me.  Let me go … Please…” Willie was babbling and struggling and shaking and panicking. Barnabas couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him in this much distress.

Barnabas dropped his head slightly to press his cheek against Willie’s. He matched his mouth to Willie’s ear and murmured wordlessly to him. His mouth moved into the little well behind the ear. He nuzzled his nose just in there. He had lanced Willie once earlier and had been warmed by his blood. He exhaled his warmed breath down Willie’s neck then on the cheek. Barnabas could use his breath as deftly as a hand.

 _It will be alright_.

Willie was quieting.

Barnabas again murmured in his ear. He didn’t speak, but Willie could hear the words as he tilted his head in.

_I have you._

He released the wrists and wrapped this arm too around the shaking shoulders. Shoulders shaking in an effort to hold back tears. Willie’s hands were fists, his arms crossed at the wrists remaining between him and the wide linen covered chest. His shoulders curled in. He was trying to become small.

The vampire was only a few inches taller than him but could appear to tower or as he did now, engulf. Barnabas had dropped his lips to the soft flesh where neck, throat and shoulder converged. He pressed his head against the other man’s. He began to rock.

Willie turned his head to rest it on Barnabas’ shoulder. He let out a catch from his throat. Barnabas raised a hand to press the head deeper into his shoulder. And he rocked.

Willie was calming now. His breathing had slowed and his heart was no longer pounding through his chest. Barnabas pressed him back to the wall, held him there with his fingers splayed across the chest while the other lifted Willie’s chin. Barnabas’ eyes blinked black and began searching Willie’s.

He had flashes of streets in an exotic land. It was dry and hot and smelled of spices. The streets narrow and with cobblestones.

“Where?” asked Barnabas.

“Turkey.”

In a cell lain face down on a woven mat he could make out grunting and hear the word, “Stay.” He could feel hands holding him down and knew the threat of a knife.

“Do you know them?”

“No.”

Fingers with ragged nails were in him then something large and hard, pushing; the pressure too much to bear.

It hurts.

“Were you alone?”

“Yes.”

Then the skin was ripping. It was too dry and the delicate tissue inside was torn and bleeding.

It hurts.

_I wouldn’t do that to you. Never._

When it was over the fluids oozed, were leaking from him.

 _It will be alright_.

Stepping into sunshine, he was dazed, but could see Jason McGuire’s face. And when he did, through the anger and fatigue, he felt relief.

Barnabas questioned him.

“He bailed me out. Got me out of the country. Took care of me.”

“Why haven’t you ever told me this?”

“When was I supposed to tell ya I was raped?” Willie asked this in all honesty.

The vampire broke the contact. Willie started to shiver. He wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged himself. He was naked and cold in the corner farthest from the fireplace. Spring was approaching but the cold of the night was threatening his room past the fire’s reach.

Barnabas wiped tears with his thumbs then reached around to the small of Willie’s back and urged him forward, “Come.”

He led him to the bed and pressed his collarbone to sit him on the edge. On the floor was a pair of sweatpants. He crouched, picked them up and spread the waistband. Between the two, the sweats were on. Willie sat back down on the bed, “I just wanna go to sleep.”

Barnabas picked up the T-shirt that had been tossed to the floor earlier. He offered it, “Would you like this?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Barnabas tossed it to the chair. “ _Are_ you fine, Willie?”

“Yeah.” Willie was studying his hands, watching while they played with each other in his lap. Barnabas turned to leave.

“I’m sorry, Barnabas.”

A large palm rested for a moment on the top of Willie’s head. A hand on the shoulder urged the younger man to lie down to be covered. Barnabas caught his eye and swept a hand over his eyes and brow, “Sleep now, Willie. Sleep now.” As he latched the door behind him it occurred to him something he always took for granted wasn’t true. Willie hadn’t escaped incarceration unscathed.

 

Opening his eyes to the window across from his bed, Willie thought the morning sky looked as grey and heavy as he felt.

_What the hell happened last night?_

He hadn’t had a full blown panic attack in ages. He felt hung-over from it. He was physically sore and overwrought from it. He had been planning on waking feeling light and relaxed as he always did after a night in the hands of the master. Instead of light, he just felt empty and flat. The feelings of the night before came to him. There was a jumble. He didn’t know which one to grab to beat himself up with first.

Just pick one.

_Let’s start with the cowering._

Thinking of cowering like that had brought with it the innumerable times he had done so. Backing away from the vampire, the madman; hoping against hope to escape death or at least serious injury one more time. Thoughts of cowering in the kitchen, cowering in the drawing room, cowering on the stairs and cowering in his own room like he did last night engulfed him. Then there was the embarrassment of flipping out on Barnabas. It made him want to burrow under the covers and not come out … ever.

But the worst was the nightmare that had precipitated the whole fiasco. Having it return front and center was a dark weight crushing his very being. Remembering the feelings of powerlessness, helplessness and hopelessness from when it happened came rushing back; and the guilt. The undefined guilt of what had he done; how he had somehow brought it on himself.

He couldn’t say the last time he had even thought of it. The only ones who knew were Jason and him. With Jason gone it had only lived on if he chose to allow it. He had faithfully squelched any thoughts of it each time they were triggered to the surface.

Now Barnabas knew too.

_Get up. Get dressed. Make some coffee. Get to work. Occupy yourself. The longer you stay here the deeper it will get a hold on you. Get moving._

And that’s what he did. After making his bed and dressing, he high-tailed it out of the room. He hurried past the doorway separating the servants’ quarters from the main part of the house. As he walked down the hallway to the front stairs he thought it was too dark. He went back and opened the doors to the rooms he had so painstakingly restored. As each door was opened light tentatively made its way to the hallway. It was looking far less cave-like. After all, weren’t they working on bringing the house back to life? If they stopped treating it like a dead thing maybe it would stop looking and acting like one. Time to use the same tact he had employed with the master himself.

He had made a huge effort to look at Barnabas as a man. Granted, he was a man with some very strange habits and conditions, but Willie skipped over those parts. Barnabas responded to him in kind. For his part he treated Willie as a person as well, no longer as a foundling object deserving of contempt. The two, though not living in peaceful harmony, had set a balance, a balance that could be toppled when the third party in this relationship came to roost, the ugly blackness simmering inside Barnabas. This thing that didn’t believe in gentlemen’s agreements.

In the kitchen he shaved and washed while his coffee brewed. As had become his habit he didn’t read the note left for him by Barnabas until his coffee was poured. It wasn’t terribly cold in the kitchen and hadn’t taken much to stoke the fireplace and stove. Barnabas must have heated it prior to retiring this morning. As he poured his coffee it was downright comfortable. He sat with the note and was surprised to find a $50 bill tucked under it. The note instructed him to purchase provisions for himself at the grocer. Use as much as would satisfy him and return with the receipt. He was also to take an inventory of the liquor cabinet and refill as needed, also providing receipts. There were plans to have the family for cocktails later in the week. Should there be a remainder of cash he was to retain it and use as he saw proper and fit. They would talk further that evening. After reading the rest of the note he could only shake his head. He gazed out the window to the tumbling sky and thought he had better get a move on. The way it looked outside it could rain or snow.

***************

It had been just after what Barnabas referred to as All Hallows Eve when the master of the house informed Willie of his plan.

“Who’s going to take care of it?” Willie was incredulous.

“You will, of course.” Barnabas was just as incredulous Willie would need to ask.

“I don’t know anything about horses.”

“You didn’t know anything about furniture repair or gardening either, but you are well on your way to mastering both.”

“That’s different, Barnabas. If I screw up with a horse I could kill it.” He pictured a dead equine moldering in a field of wildflowers. “Why don’t we start with a dog? I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“You will survey the remains of the stables to determine what will be required to refurbish it, then report your findings to me.”

“Ya know we haven’t finished the house. With the details you want and changing your mind and all it’s going to be years before we’re done in here. And we’ve hardly touched the outside. When am I going to have time to rebuild a stable?”

Barnabas was on him, “Insolent!” The word and the backhand hit him simultaneously, by adding just enough English, he spun Willie off his feet.

Willie was scrambling away trying to reach the bench that would help him rise from the floor quickly. “I’m sorry, Barnabas. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” He was up now but still retreating. He absently wondered if Barnabas could hear the ringing in his ear.

“What else could you possibly mean than that I am hampering your labors?” He was advancing.

“No, Barnabas. It’s just to do it right, things take a long time. Then after I finish, they don’t always look right so we need to start over. That’s all I meant. Really”

_Oh Jeezus, how did that happen?_

He had backed himself against the wall with no escape. He tried to be careful not to let it happen, but sometimes he was cornered before he knew it. He never could actually escape, but if he didn’t even see a means he felt he would collapse on himself. Barnabas had reached him.

The vampire grasped him by the shirt, fabric clenched in his massive hands just below Willie’s neck. He had raised himself and was towering over Willie.

Willie turned his head away, not looking into the angry black eyes, looking at the edge of the jacket lapel instead, his hands splayed out against the wall behind him. “Please don’t be like this Barnabas. I’m sorry.” His voice was low, starting to tremble.

“Be like what, Willie?” In his face; voice just as low.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he whispered. His knees gave slightly causing him to lean forward, his stomach lightly landing against the vampire.

Barnabas’ mouth opened as if to say something then slowly closed. He released the fabric and smoothed it back down onto Willie’s collarbones. He laid both hands on the man’s chest looking down on him. Using one hand he turned Willie’s face toward him. They were eye to eye. He dropped his chin slightly, ducking his head.

_It’s alright, Willie._

And Willie believed him.

The hand briefly cupped the side of his face. Then he backed away. He returned to the desk and the stack of mail.

Willie’s hands involuntarily shot up to his chest, one clasping the other.

“Do as I say, Willie.”

“Okay, Barnabas.”

“You may go now.”

“Okay.” He slipped across to the doorway of the parlor and was almost to the kitchen door before he realized his hands were tight to his chest. He stretched his fingers open and closed as he went in the kitchen to return to his task.

There were a only few more details left to brushing and pressing the suit Barnabas would be wearing in two nights for his date with Charlotte. He liked this suit. It was navy rather than the more typical black or grey. He didn’t mind doing this. It was only some touchup. He had finally convinced the vampire dry cleaning and sending his shirts out for laundering produced a superior finished product over Willie’s washing efforts. Each item was inspected upon its return and without fail Barnabas was pleased with the cleaning but not so much with the pressing. It was one of Willie’s easier chores.

The side of his face and his neck were a little sore from the blow, but he didn’t think he would have a black eye. When would he ever learn? He knew better than to not be wary when he disagrees with Barnabas. This was exactly when that sneaky bastard inside him chooses to make its presence known. Even after all the years living with the vampire he knew to still be wary of him; to use his fear to his advantage. All it took was a single lax moment and the balancing act could collapse.

It didn’t always end as well. There were times when Barnabas wasn’t able to control the anger. He had once described it as a burning, an anger burning in him. It could flash then quickly extinguish like a match. But it could also rage on like a bonfire, over-kindled and fueled as if by dry, dense oak.

The vampire no longer laid him out on the kitchen table, half naked to be lashed with his own belt, or worse, have his skin laid open by a switch cut from a tree. Nor had the wolf head cane been used in recent memory to bruise him to the bone. None of this meant he had been spared. Barnabas mostly was aware of and tempered his strength. Back in ’75 there had been the blow that sent him sailing unconscious to the ground one summer evening in the rose garden. Barnabas had carried him back to the house placing him on the kitchen table. As he awoke with cold compresses on his head and neck, he was informed whatever the infraction was that brought about this injury would not be tolerated again. He no longer remembered what had brought on the punishment, but from then on Barnabas seemed to use the incident as a marker. He had a base for what was too hard of a direct hit. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always the strike itself that caused the worst damage.

A year later, in attempting to stop from falling to the floor after a hard slap he managed to not only flip a boning knife from the table, but to land on it as well. He stood up from the table looking down on it protruding from below his ribs. When he raised his eyes to Barnabas, mouth open in terror, he was met with a look of flat apathy. He was convinced that was the night he would die. He never knew if it was the sight of the blood or the emotionless look in Barnabas’ eyes that caused him to swoon. He thought water would help, though not sure if he should drink it, splash it on his face or drown himself in it. As he went down taking that first step toward the sink, Barnabas finally responded, preventing him from hitting his head on the floor.

This time he woke in his bed. His jeans and shirt were off and his blood soaked briefs were pulled down on one side, below his hip. He could see Barnabas in profile working on him. He attempted to raise himself up only to have a large hand slide from his ribs to the top of his chest holding him firmly. He could feel the vampire’s lips secured around the wound, sucking. The tongue wasn’t teasing as it did when he took Willie in the night. It felt like it was keeping the puncture open. Barnabas released his lips and replaced them with a thick folded towel.

He took Willie’s hand pushing it down onto the towel, “Press this here. Press as hard as you are able.”

Willie did as he was told and watched as the vampire sat down on the bed beside him. Barnabas caught his eye and held him there. Showed him what needed to be done.

“You must do this. I will help you.”

“Okay”

Barnabas stroked Willie’s forehead then slid his hand under the man’s head, cradling his skull. Willie didn’t resist. He drifted with Barnabas. Willie never saw Barnabas let go with his eyes and he never closed his. But he must have, how else…?

Barnabas worked his hand out from under Willie’s head to stroke and comb his hair. He saw a flush spread in Willie’s cheeks and knew it was as much as he could do. Only then did he blink, releasing him. As he did, Willie closed his eyes and lifted his chin, tipping his head back.

“Oh Barnabas, I’m dizzy. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Again he soothed him under his hand, caressing his head, “Open your eyes and look at me.”

When he did all of his discomfort was gone.

_It will be alright, Willie._

Willie wasn’t so sure. But he relinquished the towel and remained still as the vampire lapped the wound, this time sealing it closed.

Barnabas was standing next to the bed. Willie looked up to him as he raised his hand. Barnabas took it leaning over to kiss Willie on the forehead. He had never kissed Willie like this before, only ever on the neck as a prelude to opening a vein. It was ever so light and lingering. As the lips left the smooth skin, Willie let go of the tension and uncertainty. He believed Barnabas then. It was going to be alright.

 

And it was, it was much better. Willie didn’t particularly care for the trial and error aspect of it all, but there was considerably less pain in his world. As he completed the suit he began listing in his head what he needed to do to satisfy Barnabas’ newest idea. First up would be a visit to the Collinsport Public Library for whatever he could find on barns and other outhouses plus books on structural engineering. This one was really feeling beyond his abilities. Then he thought of Roger.

Roger was expected for cocktails and conversation. He and Barnabas had come to not only respect each other’s business acumen, but genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. Barnabas’ courtly manners and traditional views appealed to Roger’s fondness for all things stodgy and upper-crust. Roger’s sardonic wit and loyalty to the Collins name held him in esteem in Barnabas’ eyes.

Roger enjoyed brandy. He particularly enjoyed Barnabas’ brandy. He was not the type to sip his liquor of choice, instead he would take a healthy swig and allow it to slosh about his mouth, swallow then take a breath. He found this to be the only way to absorb the complexities of the essence. It also meant Roger absorbed a lot of brandy.

The two men were deep in conversation considering New York’s fiscal crisis and how it led to the great city’s blackout earlier in the year. Willie edged his way into the front parlor. Barnabas saw him first, “Yes Willie? Did you need something?”

Roger dismissed Willie out of hand. He did not care for the man and made no allusions otherwise. He continued the conversation with Barnabas in his head waiting for the miscreant to be dismissed. “Yeah, Barnabas. I thought I would ask Roger…”

“Mr. Collins,” Barnabas corrected.

“Yeah, Mr. Collins. I was thinking about what we were talking about earlier and if there might be any pictures or original plans up at Collinwood for the stables.”

Hearing his name snapped Roger to attention but not soon enough to here the entire statement. “What are you on about, Loomis?”

Barnabas took over. “Willie and I were earlier discussing the possibility of rebuilding the stables.”

Roger was delighted. “What a tremendous idea! You know Liz and I were avid equestrians in our younger days. Why even if we find mounting the beasts too ambitious, wouldn’t a gig pulled by a hackney team be just the way to spend an afternoon?”

“Or evening,” added his cousin the vampire.

“Yes Loomis, I will look in the library for the original plans,” Roger announced. Again dismissing even the idea of Willie’s presence he continued to his host, “We will hire a stableman and grooms…”

Barnabas interrupted him to address Willie, “Was there anything else, Willie?”

“No, Barnabas.”

“Then you may take your leave. We will not need you the rest of the night. And Willie?”

“Yes Barnabas?”

“Thank you.”

Willie smiled, “You’re welcome.”

A thank you was always a special gift for Willie. He heard it so seldom it touched him every time it was used in his direction. With the thing inside Barnabas being restrained, Barnabas was more apt to treat Willie with care and respect than he had in the past. Willie knew Barnabas thought it was a brilliant idea on Willie’s part to get Roger on board with the plans for the stables. In fact, Willie was just hoping for some guidance in the monumental failure he had been charged with undertaking.

As he walked down the hallway and entered the kitchen he could hear Roger booming, “You weren’t planning on having Loomis involved in the construction? …. No, that will never do. We will hire out…” With this music in his ears Willie picked up the cup of tea he had been steeping to take upstairs with him.

In his room he set the tea on the end table next to the book he had been reading. He built a fire and changed his clothes. Taking the big down comforter Barnabas had given him he curled up in the upholstered chair turning his attention to the novel. He wasn’t sure why he was subjecting himself to this. He had enough terror in his own life. It was possible he was commiserating with little Danny and the trouble he found lurking in the Overlook Hotel.

.

It wasn’t the first book he had read by the author. Two years earlier another of his novels had caused an uproar in the Old House. Willie had been reading it in bed. Dozing off, he hadn’t put the book aside and it had found purchase along his arm and ribs. Barnabas, checking his candle, had picked up the book meaning to set it on the nightstand, flipping it over, and opening to read the entirety of the dust jacket his curiosity turned to an irrational alarm. The alarm quickly slid into agitation fueled by the creature inside of him, searching for an avenue to release its aggression. He slammed the book to the nightstand causing Willie to wake startled. Heart pounding, mind disoriented he shouted at Barnabas, “What was that?”

“That was a death knell!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Barnabas?”

Barnabas picked up the book and shook it at Willie, “This! I’m talking about this!”

“This what?!” Willie was awake kneeling on the bed, but his brain needed a little warm up time to grapple with associations. Barnabas hurled the book at him. He did his best duck and dive but the volume still got him in the shoulder. “Ow! Jeezus, Barnabas! What the…”

Barnabas had him now by both arms, digging his fingertips into Willie’s triceps, “What do you know about this?”

“Honest Barnabas, I don’t know what’s going on here. One minute I’m sleeping and the next you’re in here all pissed off at me. I don’t know what I did.”

Barnabas shoved him away; shoved hard. He spun and headed out the door slamming it behind him. Willie was up and after him, chasing him down the hallway. This wasn’t a regular outburst. There was something very wrong here. _Jeezus, his eyes_.

“Barnabas, what happened? Please tell me what happened. I’ll fix it if I can, but I don’t know what you’re so mad about.”

They had come to the top of the stairs. The look in the vampire’s eyes, the blackness, the red rims made Willie reach out for Barnabas’ arm. The vampire snatched it away. For a brief second Willie thought he was about to be hurled down the stairs.

The vampire instead descended, “Who is this person? What knowledge does he have?”

“Oh my God…” Willie finally put it together.

They ended in the library.

“Barnabas.”

This time he did catch a large hand in his own. He covered it with his other palm. The vampire prepared to strike, but felt the soothing warmth from Willie’s skin. “Barnabas. It’s just a story.” He looked at their hands piled together. He squeezed his top hand over the vampire’s. He was trying to stay even, but was filled with uncertainty.

_What do I do with this?_

Instead he said, “Why don’t you sit down?”

Willie knew….Barnabas truly believed he’d been found out. The rational Barnabas had been convinced by the irrational.

The vampire allowed Willie to lead him to his chair and sat. Willie knelt in front of him still holding the hand in both of his. “It’s just a story, Barnabas.”

“Why would it be set in Maine? That’s too much of a coincidence.” Barnabas looked genuinely frightened.

“Well not really. The author lives here in Maine.”

“Where is this village?”

“What village?” Willie was worried. “Oh you mean the one in the book?”

Barnabas searched his face.

“It doesn’t exist…. Here….. Hold on….. I’ll get the atlas.” He retrieved the reference from a shelf and had it open and was flipping through it to “M” as he returned to the side of the chair. He found Maine and set the atlas in Barnabas’ lap. He ran his finger tip down the alphabetical list of towns, cities and burgs beginning with “J.”

 _Shit, there is a Jerusalem, Maine …. Stay calm_.

“Here’s a Jerusalem, but no Jerusalem’s Lot.” He continued his finger down the list.

_Dammit._

“And here’s a Salem, but no ‘Salem’s Lot.”

He crouched down next to the chair and put his hand on an unsteady knee. “Are you alright, Barnabas?”

He had calmed. “Yes …… I wasn’t feeling myself.” Taking an audible breath looking at the State of Maine mapped out on his lap he said, “Thank you, Willie.”

“Sure Barnabas.” He stood, taking the atlas with him. Setting it back on the shelf he glanced at the window. “You know, the sun’s going to be coming up soon. Maybe you should head downstairs.”

“Yes, I believe you are right.”

Willie went by his side and stroked his head, ran his fingers through the dark hair. With that Barnabas stood and headed for the basement stairs fishing the key out of his pocket as he went. “We won’t mention this again.”

“Mention what?”

Barnabas turned to look at Willie and saw the small, sly grin on his face. He passed through the doorway to the basement.

_My spark._

Willie just stared after him. When he heard the deadbolt engage from the other side he made his way to the kitchen. Stoking the stove he prepared his coffee. There was no going back to sleep after that.

_What am I going to do if he completely loses his mind? How will I handle him?_

.

And there he was, wrapped in his comforter reading another Stephen King bedtime story. Thankfully this one was set in Colorado. The incident with the other book could have been funny. It could have been funny if it wasn’t. It was creepy, sad and frightening all at the same time.

 

The next evening Barnabas quizzed Willie on the details of the night planned out with Charlotte. Willie gave him the same rundown he had given so many times before on a night out at the theater with a lady. It was becoming rote.

“Barnabas? Why don’t you expand your horizons?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“It seems all you do on these dates is go to the Blue Whale for drinks or go to a play. There are other things to do out there ya know.” Willie was frying up potatoes to accompany the chicken he was finishing off in a pot in the fireplace.

“Willie, perhaps you hadn’t noticed I’m limited.”

“Only by yourself.” _Uh-oh, probably shouldn’t have said that._

“And what is that suppose to mean?” He was feeling the irritation rising.

“I don’t know, Barnabas. It just seems you could use a little variety, I know I could. Everyone likes variety, don’t they?” Breath held, fingers crossed.

_Please don’t get mad._

“As I said, I’m limited and you know that,” he replied as his irritation faded. “Besides, you may not have noticed the choice of locally available females is reaching exhaustion.”

Willie had indeed noticed this and had given it some thought. After all a dating vampire was a happy vampire and a happy vampire was so much easier to live with. One thing he knew was Barnabas needed a makeover. Really the only thing updated on him since 1967 was he quit oiling his hair. Willie himself hadn’t been out on the dating scene but he could guess most women weren’t as captivated by Barnabas’ old world charms as Vicki had been. He still saw Vicki occasionally, but even for her the luster was wearing off. And with David now off to college Vicki was considering relocating to Portland, possibly to Boston.

“Well maybe we can drum up some new interest,” said Willie, never looking up from his potatoes.

Barnabas opened his mouth to reply then reconsidered. Instead, he shook his head and left the room.

 

Back home from the theater sipping on his whiskey while sitting with Barnabas, Willie’s thoughts turned back to their conversation of the night before. “Barnabas, I really think you should consider becoming more open to the modern world.”

“I have,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve been forced to out of necessity, you know that.”

“That’s kinda what I mean. Loosen up a little on your own, not just on the things you need to do to get by.” He swirled the drink in his glass.

“I don’t understand what you are getting at. I am who I am. And I am what I am.” He sat with his head leaning back in the wing chair, eyes hooded, looking at the floor ahead.

“But there are plenty of things you can do that won’t change who you are.” Willie continued on, "You could start with your ‘look’. You could modernize it. Order some suits in something other than wool. Order a couple of linen suits for summer, or even sport coats and slacks,” Willie offered.

“Become what they call a “Slave to Fashion”? Barnabas sniffed.

“No, that’s not really what I meant.” He didn’t pay enough attention to it himself to be able to offer anything else on the subject of men’s clothing. He took another sip and considered it further. “I know. You could learn to drive.”

“Why would I do that when I have you?” _Ridiculous._

 _Now he’s just not trying._ “Wouldn’t you like to go out on your own?” Willie asked. “Maybe take Charlotte out on a moonlit drive that ends at the sea. You know, without your faithful servant there putting a damper on the mood. I’d be happy to teach you how to drive. Ya know, Jason taught me.”

“Why would McGuire be the one to teach you?”

“Cause I grew up in a city. There’s enough public transportation in New York to get you anywhere you want to go. Never needed to know till I didn’t live there anymore.”

Barnabas made no comment.

“You could go to the movies.”

Nothing.

“You could take your date dancing.” Now there was an idea. “Who wants to stick to a chauffeur schedule when you’re out dancing?”

“Willie, I do not know how to execute a modern dance,” Barnabas stated with a degree of finality.

Willie thought of a time when he couldn’t execute a dance either. Jason had taught him. They were in a hotel room, God only knows where and they had both been drinking. Jason was getting down to the finer points. When spinning a girl, it was always two spins out, one spin in. _For a real statement when she's back in your arms, boy-o, take her like this. Then you kiss her like this_. And Jason kissed him like he'd never been kissed before. It was no wonder why woman looked at him achingly when he said goodnight. _That's the way to sweep her off her feet, Willie_. They both laughed at the surprise of it. Then together taking one giant, bent-kneed step to the side continued on, dancing away to the little leather covered transistor radio. A radio he still had.

Willie was undeterred by Barnabas’ objections, “Jason taught me how to dance too.” There was silence. “He said a gentleman should know how to sweep a lady across a dance floor. I’ll teach you.”

The only floor Barnabas was interested in was in the very room where they were sitting. He appeared thoroughly engrossed in the floor in front of him.

Willie finished his whiskey and sighed. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

 

Willie was breathing heavy and sweating. He was on his back, one arm under Barnabas the other stretched out from the shoulder. Pulses still slid through his body. Barnabas had an arm under him as well and used it to roll Willie into his chest. Willie wrapped around Barnabas securing his hand behind the taut neck. Now was the time. Now was when he could give back.

As Barnabas wrapped his arms around Willie he airily exhaled into his ear. He lifted his head and stretched towards Willie’s neck, running his lips along the soft flesh there. Staying with him, he rolled Willie again to his back. His lips brushed along the length, then paused to kiss the curve to his throat. He exhaled, using his breath to warm Willie’s shoulder before travelling back up to find the mark.

Everything else was gone to Willie. He was aware only of the romance along his tendons searching for the vein. He hissed as Barnabas lanced him then covered the marks with his lips. Willie knew as he drew the flow into his mouth and swallowed there was a tension building inside the vampire. Willie’s body knew without effort or instruction how to please the vampire and in return when the vampire felt his own release he would take Willie with him.

Although he had already expelled his seed into the night, Willie climaxed again, this time it was dry and this time it was with Barnabas. He contracted from his chest to his thighs at the sensation of tremors moving from the center of his lower back upward, outward, so warm, so forceful and so exquisite. He was feeling the eruption inside the other man within himself. He could hear the humming. Barnabas clutched Willie around his ribs with one hand and waist with the other as he piloted them through the storm.

The calm came suddenly and was its own pleasure. Peacefulness descended on them. Barnabas rolled to his back taking Willie with him. There was a slowing of hearts, Barnabas slowly stroking Willie’s back, Willie nestling in Barnabas’ chest, right there where it met his shoulder.

Willie felt himself dozing, his entire groin empty, wonderfully light and uncluttered. When he again opened his eyes he was alone. Barnabas had collected his shirt, jacket, tie and shoes. The covers had been pulled over him, the fire was warm and he was relaxed. Morning would be there shortly.

***************

He wished he felt that way this day. Instead he was tense, racing to finish his errands, unable to keep from reliving his meltdown of the night before. Barnabas was trying to make it alright; he knew that and appreciated it.

It also made him feel a little better knowing spring was coming. The sun had broken through in the afternoon pushing away any possibility of a storm. It had turned quite warm, close to sixty. When he arrived home he hurried to take care of the daily chores. He was just taking off his apron when he heard Barnabas unlock the basement door.

He found Barnabas at the writing desk flipping through the small book Willie had left for him. “What does ‘DMV’ stand for?”

“Department of Motor Vehicles,” Willie replied.

“Hmmm…” Barnabas fanned through a few more pages and asked, “And did you stop in the tailor shop?”

“Yes. Your appointment is Tuesday evening. He asked for time to put together samples. He’ll measure you again then too.”

“Fine.” Barnabas moved on, “Have you chosen a movie you would like to attend?”

“There’s one that will only be here for a couple of days. “ He had read about it in The Collinsport News. “It’s called ‘Days of Heaven’.” Willie had a bit of hesitation here. “Are you sure you want to see your first movie with me?”

“Positive. That will be all.”

Willie returned to the kitchen to finish putting away the groceries and liquor. He heated soup for dinner. It didn’t matter he wasn’t hungry, he was looking for a way to kill time so it wasn’t as obvious he when went to bed early. He didn’t want to face Barnabas again tonight. He just wanted today over.

Barnabas had other plans.

He was just finishing washing his bowl when he heard a board creek behind him. He startled at the broken silence. Turning his head over his shoulder, “You need me to do something, Barnabas?”

“Come”

He set the bowl to dry and wiped his hands on his jeans. Barnabas had already left the room and Willie hurried to catch up with him as he led the way to the library. Barnabas motioned to Willie’s customary chair, “Sit.”

Was he going to get a reprimand? He couldn’t think what he had done wrong or chore he had missed. His brain was searching its files when Barnabas asked, “What would you like to drink?”

_You gotta be kidding. You really want to ply me with a cocktail for another round tonight?_

“Barnabas, I’m really not up for…”

The vampire held up a shushing hand, “I only seek your company. Now what do you desire?”

Willie was resigned, “Bourbon.”

Barnabas silently poured the amber spirit into a glass and handed it to him. Willie took a long draw while Barnabas moved to the fireplace. They were quiet as the fire sang a siren song to the vampire. He stood staring for a long while.

Willie had half his drink gone before he knew it. He leaned his head back against the chair, while he too listened to the crackling. He could feel the bourbon working on him. He was looser.

“Cousin Roger and I have decided against horses,” Barnabas offered as a conversation starter.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” _Thank God_

“We’ve decided they wouldn’t be used as often as they should. Roger is convinced we would end up with a herd of ornery and overweight malcontents.” He paused for a moment. “We may still bring in a firm to refurbish the stables; to preserve them for the future.”

Willie had finished his drink. “Another?” Barnabas took the glass from his hand and was refilling before Willie could answer.

Willie settled in to listen to Barnabas’ oration he knew was coming as he was handed his refill. The man could go on. He would tell stories from the past and carry on with overly elaborate schemes for the future. From these allocutions Willie knew more about the vampire than he wished to know about anyone. So he was a bit jolted by what was said next.

“I didn’t know that had happened to you. I’m sorry.” Barnabas didn’t lift his eyes from the fire.

Willie’s loose meditation lost its hold. He immediately became agitated and wary. He didn’t want to talk about it. He only wanted it gone. Gone forever. He could feel anger rising in him. _He’s sorry?_

“How difficult it must have been for you.”

“Yeah, well a lot of difficult things have happened to me here too.” He took a long slug of bourbon. “Are you sorry about those too?” The bourbon was working too well, he was lashing out. Lashing out just like he had at Jason when he had retrieved Willie from the jail.

Barnabas was looking at him now, working to keep his own temper in check. Willie would occasionally flash anger like this. It wouldn’t do for both of them to be heated.

“Am I different to you, now that you know?” He glared at Barnabas, dared him to say yes.

“No,” Barnabas answered honestly.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” But he really did want to talk about it. He wanted this pressure inside of him to burst like a storm cloud and cleanse him. Wash away the hurt. What he couldn’t do was deal with any of his feelings over it in a way that was productive. He didn’t know how.

Barnabas tried a different tact, “I didn’t know you had been to that part of the world.”

“Why would you? You never want to know anything about me.” He paused briefly and thought, _You opened this can of worms_.” Ya know? If you had ever asked me about my past and the places I’ve been you probably would have known sooner.” His eyes were taking on a narrowed appearance.

Barnabas was having difficulty controlling his own anger. He had taken on his superior and haughty stance. With his head raised he looked down on Willie with hooded eyes.

Willie stood, “What? You want to smack me now? Maybe backhand me into the next room? How many blows to the head do you think one guy can take? What do you think, Barnabas?”

This brought Barnabas up. Knocked that preeminent look right off his face. Willie didn’t know how to react to the expression that came over Barnabas.

_Was that guilt? Was it compassion? Or was he hurt? Did it matter?_

He had to get out. “You know, this is too much. I don’t want to talk about it.”

And as quickly as it flared it was over. He felt badly for jumping all over Barnabas, especially when he honestly meant no harm. “I’m sorry Barnabas. I…I just…” He looked down at the empty glass in his hand and said, “Thanks for the drink. I’ll just go wash this.”

When he got to the kitchen he put the glass in the sink and kept walking. He took his pea coat and had it buttoned as he reached the back porch closing the door behind him. He raised his collar as he stepped off the porch looking at the stars.

_I could use you right now, Jason._

He dropped his head, dug his hands into his coat pockets and strode toward the gardens.

Barnabas found him in the rose garden on the bench Willie had built as a surprise for him. He’d completed it with a plaque commemorating his mother, Naomi. Willie was sitting low on his tailbone with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He still had his hands stuffed in his pockets and was contemplating his knees. Barnabas didn’t need his superior vision tonight. The sky was bright with the moon and stars. As he approached he could see Willie’s blond hair, shiny in the moonlight, fluttering with a sea breeze seeping over the tops of the trees.

He sat reaching around to draw Willie in, with his other hand he pressed Willie’s head into his own. Willie didn’t resist, resting his head there for a moment before surrendering a sigh.

“My spark.”

He squeezed Willie’s shoulder before taking his arm back. Leaning over he rested his forearms on his thighs, joining his hands to create the familiar steeple. “How many countries have you been to?”

“I don’t know, Barnabas. I probably use to know, but I’ve forgotten now,” then offered, “I’d have to look at my passport.”

“Passport? What is this?”

“It’s a little book you carry with when you cross borders to other countries. When you cross, your book gets stamped by the country you’re entering. So it’s a little record of where you’ve been. Well at least most of where you’ve been. As a mariner it only gets stamped when you disembark. So if you stay onboard in a port it doesn’t get stamped.”

“And you still posses this?”

“Yeah, it’s upstairs in a drawer with my Z-card.”

“Z-card?”

“That’s a mariner’s ID.”

“I would like to see these sometime.”

“Sure Barnabas, we can look at ‘em one night.”

“Have you been to England?” Barnabas asked slipping his hands in his own pockets.

“Sure. We were there. Dover. We took a bus to London. Jason showed me around.”

“I am supposed to be the long lost cousin from England, but I’ve never actually been there. Tell me about it.” He also leaned back, extending his legs.

“Well, let’s see. Ya know the White Cliffs of Dover? They really are white. They look like chalk….”


End file.
